A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 447 - 436: Night at the castle

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Quadling Country]

[Glinda’s Castle]

The witch, it seemed, did not lack for hospitality.

At least, that was the only reasonable conclusion one could draw from the room they had been given—if "given" was even the right word for something so prepared.

It was spacious—no, more than that, it was very expansive, as though designed to make its occupants feel small within it. Two large beds rested on opposite sides of the room, positioned with perfect symmetry, their red covers rich and deep in tone, threaded through with fine gold. Pillows were arranged with almost obsessive neatness, looking pristine. Between the beds, closer to the wall, sat an armchair—soft-looking and well-crafted.

To the side stood a large, smooth black wooden cupboard, its surface polished to a perfect shine. Nearby, a desk and another armchair occupied a corner, as though meant just for thought. A small round table rested atop the red carpet that stretched through the room, and there was also a door—closed, leading elsewhere, its purpose unclear—and beside it, a book rack filled with neatly arranged volumes, each placed with care.

"...All this space is kind of useless to me, if I’m being honest," Puck murmured after a moment, her voice softer than usual as she drifted idly at Grimm’s side, her gaze sweeping across the room without settling. "I mean, I don’t really need beds, or chairs, or... any of this, really. But..." She paused, her expression shifting slightly, looking thoughtful. "The Good Witch is definitely generous—more than I expected. I just didn’t think things would take this turn so quickly. It feels like she wanted this from the beginning." The fairy let the last words linger.

Grimm stepped further into the room, his sabatons meeting the carpet, his gaze moving once—twice—across the space before losing interest just as quickly. The Cowardly Lion followed behind him, his steps uncertain, his eyes turning toward every corner as though expecting something to move.

"It seems the witch has her own interests, ones she has yet to fully reveal," Grimm stated evenly, his voice as blank as ever. His attention shifted back to Puck, though there was no urgency in it. "This arrangement is not born from simple kindness alone."

"Yeah, that’s kind of what I figured too," Puck replied, drifting a little closer, folding her gauntleted hands behind her back as she leaned slightly forward in midair. "But you agreed to stay way too easily. Like, no hesitation at all. I honestly thought you’d get bored halfway through that conversation, lose interest completely, and just walk out like you usually do." She narrowed her eyes slightly. "So what changed?"

"I have not yet properly dissected everything presented to me," Grimm answered without pause, as if the question required no thought at all. "The conversation with the witch was far too brief and far too shallow. There are layers there that remain unknown, and until they are understood, leaving would be premature."

"I guess that makes sense," Puck admitted, though her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced. "Still, she seemed pretty set on making us stay. Like she already decided it before we even walked in. And she wasn’t even surprised when you told her what you were—like she already knew, or at least expected something like it." She frowned slightly. "I really can’t tell what goes on in the head of someone like that. It’s weird."

"That," Grimm said, almost idly, "is precisely what makes her interesting."

Puck blinked, then raised a brow, her lips curling slightly. "Oh? So you’re finally admitting you’re interested in something again? That’s new." She tilted her head, studying him more closely. "Let’s just hope you actually give her more than a few minutes this time before deciding she’s not worth your attention and moving on like everything else."

"I doubt that will happen," Grimm dismissed with a small motion of his hand, as if brushing the notion aside entirely. "Individuals like her are, by nature, the most intriguing. They are not easily exhausted."

Puck tilted her head further at that, her curiosity sharpening. "Oh? And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" she pressed, her voice more focused. "Don’t just say something vague and leave it there. Explain."

"You will see in time," Grimm replied, his tone unchanged and entirely unhelpful.

Puck stared at him for a second longer before exhaling sharply. "You know, an actual answer—like, a real one with words and explanations—would’ve been appreciated," she huffed, her expression flattening into a dry one.

"I doubt it would hold your interest for long," Grimm said without hesitation. "You are more akin to a child who is drawn to that which is immediately stimulating—flashy and loud. Depth rarely sustains your attention."

"That is so not true," Puck shot back instantly, her voice rising as she folded her tiny arms tightly across her chest and turned away from him with a sharp motion. "I have depth, thank you very much. I have plenty of sophisticated interests—you just never bother to notice them because you’re too busy acting like you’re above everything."

"Hm."

Puck froze for a second, then slowly turned her head back toward him, her eyes narrowing. "You know, you could at least say something back instead of just making a sound like that," she sighed, the frustration bleeding through more openly now. "A conversation kind of requires two people actually participating, not just one person talking while the other makes judgmental noises."

"Perhaps," was all Grimm said at first, the single word delivered in that same unbothered tone. It seemed as though the conversation had already lost whatever value it once held.

Puck stared at him for a moment, her expression flattening further before she let out a slow breath through her nose. "Also, in most conversations," she began dryly, her voice carrying irritation she wasn’t bothering to hide anymore, "the other party is usually expected to contribute more than a single vague word at a time. It kind of helps things move along, makes it feel less like I’m talking to a wall."

"Only when there is something worth saying," Grimm replied without missing a beat, his voice dry, as if the concept required no further elaboration. He tilted his head slightly then, not toward her, but rather inward—his posture shifting just enough to suggest that he was mulling over something. "Hm... remaining here serves little purpose," he continued after a brief pause. "Let us explore the castle."

The suggestion came abruptly, cleanly cutting through whatever rhythm their conversation had been trying—and failing—to establish.

Puck blinked once at the sudden shift, her irritation momentarily replaced by surprise, though it didn’t take long for her to recover. "Well, that’s one way to change the subject," she muttered under her breath before glancing around the room again, as if reconsidering it with new context. "I mean, I don’t exactly feel like sitting here all night either, especially when I’m not even remotely tired," she admitted, her tone easing slightly. "But..." she added, her eyes narrowing just a fraction as she looked back at him, "even if the Good Witch said we could stay, are we really just going to wander around her castle like we own the place? That feels like a really quick way to get ourselves into trouble."

"That is of no concern to me," Grimm stated simply, already moving toward the door as though the matter had been decided the moment he spoke. "I do as I wish. Permission is optional."

Puck watched him go, her expression settling into something distinctly unimpressed. "Right, of course you do," she said flatly. "I’m starting to get the feeling you didn’t exactly have a great relationship with authority figures back in your empire, huh? Or, actually—no—you probably just ignored them entirely."

"From what I have already told you," Grimm replied, his voice drifting back to her as he reached the door, "that conclusion should have been obvious." He paused only briefly, his hand hovering near the handle before he glanced back just slightly. "Now—will you come along, or not?"

Puck exhaled softly, rolling her eyes, though there was no real resistance left in her posture. "Yeah, yeah, I’m coming," she said, drifting after him with a small shake of her head. Then her gaze shifted, landing on the Cowardly Lion, who had remained unusually quiet throughout the exchange. "What about you?" she asked, her tone lighter, though carrying a hint of expectation. "Are you coming with us, or are you planning on guarding the room or something?"

The lion flinched slightly at being addressed, his body tensing before he straightened just a little, clearly unsure of himself. "N-no, I think I’ll stay here," he said, his voice wavering despite his attempt to sound certain. "I—I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to wander around, not in a place like this."

Puck studied him for a second, then gave a small, unsurprised shrug. "Yeah, that tracks," she muttered, though her tone was not unkind, just matter-of-fact. "Suit yourself."